Page 62 of Alien's Luck
“It is not easy to see the suffering of one you love.”
Her eyes went glossy, tender emotions showing. Jealousy flitted through his hardened heart that she showed such vulnerability for her friend. He wondered how it felt to be so beloved, like he was a treasure worth fighting for.
Marvelous to be so loved. He selfishly wished it for himself.
Tamping down his emotions, he busied himself with selecting the treatment option the medical platform recommended. The unit completely encased Poppy, who continued to struggle against the restraints. The chamber filled with a cloudy gas and her form stilled.
“That’s it?” Carla asked, laying a hand on the surface of the unit.
“That is all we can do for now.” His hand cupped the side of Carla’s face. She leaned into his caress, her eyes closing as she sighed. “If I could cure your friend, I would.”
He had a fortune at his disposal, and no amount of credits could procure the medicine her friend required.
She did not resist as he pulled her into an embrace. He moved stiffly, his wings and back hurting from the blaster shot.
He knew what he had to do.
“You’re hurt.” Carla pulled away, her voice scolding. “Let me see.”
The shot tore right through his wing. It burned still on his side, near his back. The wound should have healed by now. He had shifted to his stone form. He should not have been injured at all.
“Let me see. Stop fidgeting,” Carla opened a med pack. She gestured for him to turn around, twirling her fingers while looking very annoyed.
He held himself still as she poked his back with sharpened sticks, judging from the lack of a delicate touch.
“Umm, what color do you bleed?” she asked.
“Same as you,” he replied.
“My blood is not green.”
“Neither is mine.”
“Explain this.” She thrust a square of filthy cloth at him, the white material no longer sterile and stained a deep green.
“Give me the kit.” He raised his arm and wing, twisting to inspect the wound on his side. “That is not the correct color.”
“It’s oozing.” She pressed a new cloth to the wound. He did not flinch or hiss in surprise, though she rolled her eyes, as if mocking him for a reflex he absolutely did not make.
“A serpent bit me. The venom is hindering my ability to heal.”
He twisted again. The wound had grown, the blast burning away at his compromised flesh. Carla cleaned the wound, but it continued to ooze. She applied a thick gel, creating a barrier. That was a temporary measure. Ari felt the wound continue to grow, a slow burn boring its way into him.
“Your ministrations are futile. The wound grows deeper and will hit a vital organ. I must shift to my stone form and enter a deep sleep to heal,” he said.
“Sounds good.” She replaced the gauze with another, taping this one in place. “How long will that take?”
“It is difficult to say. Weeks. Perhaps a month or more.”
“A month? But I need you.”
He placed his hand over hers. “You are the most capable person I know. You have my credits at your disposal and my ship. You do not need me. I need you.”
“Ari,” she said, her voice growing serious, “I need you. Not your money. Not your ship. You.”
He wished that were true. This had never been a partnership between equals. From the moment he purchased her on the street, she had been his superior in every meaningful way.
“Take your friend to the Khargal Patrol. They will have a more advanced medical unit or access to one.”
